Goodbye Is Forever
by CSIGeekFan
Summary: How much do we really know about Greg? Rated PG-13 due to violence.
1. Visitors

A/N: These are not my characters. I'm just borrowing them. You know the drill. Also, please be gentle. This is my very first fanfic. Reviews would be great.  
  
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Head bopping to the punk rock blaring on the stereo behind him, Greg walked out of the lab, nearly running into Grissom. With the impetuous grin and a quizzical eye he says, "I've got the results. Bet you can't guess what I found."  
  
Grissom sighs dramatically and replies, "Just give me the results," as Sara walks up to join the conversation.  
  
"What've you got for us Greg?" Sara asked, curious to the results and if they fit the suspect's DNA.  
  
"Well, it looks like."  
  
Greg's face suddenly pales and panic fills his eyes. Before anyone can react, he shoved the paperwork into Grissom's chest, and steps through and past him. Leaving Grissom to clutch at paper. Greg walked robotically past Grissom and Sara to a man at the far end of the hallway. And as he walked, the man started towards him.  
  
With fear edging his voice, Greg demanded, "Is it granddad? Is everything alright with granddad?"  
  
The man gripped Greg's arms to pin him in position and with a gentle voice replied, "Your grandfather's alright. He's fine."  
  
But Greg's knees begin to buckle when the man continues with, "We caught him, Greg. We caught him." 


	2. Awaken

Greg's mind was a haze. The last few minutes a blur. He came sharply aware and awake when he heard Catherine say, "I'm calling an ambulance."  
  
"No," he shouted and struggled into an upright position. With trembling hands, he pushed himself against the wall, staying seated on the cool linoleum floor. Looking up, he was surrounded by his co-workers and the best friend he ever had.  
  
"Dan," he said looking at the older man, "please say that one more time. I promise I won't pass out again."  
  
Dan knelt down beside Greg on one knee and gently smiled at him. Cupping Greg's cheek in his palm, as you might a child you wish to comfort, Dan quietly said one more time, "We got him."  
  
Sighing, Greg leaned his head back against the wall and gripped his hair.  
  
"That's what I thought you said." 


	3. Introductions

Greg became slowly aware of his colleagues surrounding him, concern etched on their faces. He knew he would have to explain. They would demand nothing less or more from him than to know what upset him.  
  
Of course, Grissom already knew. It was the reason he always gave Greg his birthday off.  
  
Standing slowly, using the wall for support, Greg looked around and said, "I really need to sit down."  
  
As he walked towards the break room, he knew the others would follow. No invitation was needed for any of them, partly because they were his friends and partly because there was a mystery here and none of them could resist a mystery.  
  
Sitting in a chair, he motioned for Dan to sit beside him. The others pulled up seats and settled into position. To their credit, none of them pushed for an explanation. They all sat quietly, waiting for Greg to settle himself.  
  
Greg looked at the faces surrounding him. and found the comfort and steadiness he needed coming from the concern in Nick's eyes.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Greg softly said, "I'd like all of you to meet Dan Meeks. He's a very old friend from San Francisco."  
  
Pausing to consider his words, he continued, "I've known Dan for nearly twenty years. As a matter of fact, in three days, on my birthday, I will have known him for exactly twenty years." Greg steeled himself for the words that were always so hard to utter.  
  
"I met Dan the night my parents and I were stabbed in our home. He was the homicide detective sent to find who murdered my parents." 


	4. Memories

"It's nice to meet you," Dan interjected. "Greg's told me a great deal about you over the past few years."  
  
Dan held his hand out to Gil Grissom. "I know Greg has the utmost respect for you. It's one of the things that drew him away from the bay area several years ago. And I know from his letters and phone calls," he said as he scanned the intent faces around him, "that he holds you all in great admiration."  
  
Settling back in his chair, Dan continued to study the faces in the room, noting the patience and concern in each. Silently he nodded to himself in approval. Greg had found his home. And from the looks of it, his home was about to be rocked on the foundation. Dan sat back in his chair and waited for Greg to step into the nightmares that haunted him.. had haunted him all these years.  
  
Taking a calming breath, Greg began to slowly explain. His voice turned a bit more high-pitched as he stepped back into his childhood.  
  
~20 years earlier~  
  
"You forgot to thank your grandma for that beautiful cake," she said, a stern look to her mouth and a distinct twinkle in her eye. "You must be sure to do so tomorrow."  
  
"Okay, mom. But I didn't care that it was beautiful. It was GOOOOODDDDDDDD!"  
  
Twirling in circles while jumping turned out to be a bit too much, as Greg began to weave and pitch forward.  
  
Catching him in the nick of time, Greg's dad hauled the squealing boy up over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of potatoes. For those looking on, there would have been no doubt that the laughing family sauntering down the street was happy. That they would continue to be happy.  
  
"Mom," Greg asked, hanging half upside-down from his father's shoulder, "How long til I get my baby brother?"  
  
Patting her oversized stomach, his mother replied, "About three more weeks and he or she will be totally cooked."  
  
As he was dropped to his feet, Greg pondered thoughtfully, "It'll be a boy. I know it'll be a boy. I hate girls and God wouldn't make me have a baby sister, cause I hate girls."  
  
With that bit of logic dispensed with utmost authority, Greg began skipping down the street.  
  
Greg's parents looked at one another, and fought the laughter rising in both. Putting his hand around his wife's back for a bit of support, Greg's father whispered, "Personally.. I wouldn't mind a little girl."  
  
Less than a minute later, the trio stood upon the steps of their home. Greg restlessly moved from foot to foot while his father slipped the key into the lock and opened the front door. In a matter of minutes, Greg's parents would be dead and he would be in the hospital, near death from five stab wounds to his chest and stomach. 


	5. The Stuff Nightmares Are Made Of

Greg lifted his head to look into the patient eyes of his steadfast, surrogate father. Dan smiled encouragingly at Greg. Feeling too unsteady to relive the horror of it, Greg's mind switched over and he cleared his throat to tell the facts, trying hard to distance himself from the memory.  
  
"My dad opened the door and we stepped inside. As I recall, I raced down the hall to my bedroom. Mom had promised that I could play with the new matchbox cars I got in the living room. That's when I heard the screams."  
  
Looking into the distance, Greg fought being sucked back into that moment and failed. He began shivering as he continued, once more living it in his mind.  
  
~~  
  
"Mommy?" Greg whispered, as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, shaking. His mom never screamed or cried. This sound was a scary sound. Like in the scary movie his mom and dad didn't know he saw with his friends last week, but even scarier. And these cries didn't seem to stop. His mom just kept screaming and screaming. And on top of that, he could hear someone yelling, and other sounds coming from the livingroom.  
  
"Mommy!" Greg yelled, peaking behind the counters into the livingroom. His mom was laying on the ground, her hands over her belly, trying to keep him away from the baby. Then a groan caught his attention.  
  
Near his mom, Greg could see his dad laying in a pool of blood, his eyes open and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Daddy!"  
  
With an instinct only a child impervious to any thought of harm could have, Greg sprinted into action, running with all his strength. His small body flew on feet of wings and he jumped at the scary man standing over his mom.  
  
"Leave her alone!" He screamed in a piercing shriek. "Leave her alone!"  
  
The man, momentarily stunned by the surprise attack, wrenched away from Greg's mom and for the first time, Greg saw the butcher knife. Then Greg saw the snarl on the man's face. Looking into his eyes, Greg saw nothing. There was simply nothing in the man's eyes. No soul. Nothing. And the world went just as dark.  
  
~~  
  
The rest of the team sat back in shocked silence. To a person, they each knew what an attack like that would mean. As Greg looked up, tears streamed down his face and he said, "That night, Grace was born." 


	6. Dan's Turn

Dan looked at Greg and received a nod. He would continue the story. He would give these people the facts. And they would understand, because they saw this everyday.  
  
"What Greg doesn't remember is that he was stabbed repeatedly," Dan began. "He also doesn't remember meeting me the first time, although he was awake when I arrived."  
  
"Actually, I have vague memories, but they're fuzzy," Greg interjected, then grinned. "You kept trying to push a teddy bear into my arms as they strapped me down to a gurney. I kept pushing it back at you." With that memory, Greg shook his head. "The only clear thing about that is the teddy bear though. I didn't want a bear. I wanted my Fuzzy."  
  
"By the time the ambulance arrived, Greg's parents were already dead," Dan said. "There was nothing I could do for them but find their killer. But there lay a small boy, weakly begging his grandfather for his mom and dad. I didn't have the heart to tell him they couldn't come to him. And having a girl not much younger, I couldn't seem to walk away from Greg or the grief I saw in his grandfather's eyes. So, I was there when Greg and his mother were loaded into the ambulance. I stayed through the night while Greg was in surgery and his mother's belly was cut open to bring into this world the life she so fiercely protected."  
  
Reaching back into his memory, Dan started where Greg left off.  
  
"Greg had forgotten a stuffed rabbit - Fuzzy - he'd had all his life at his grandparent's house, just a few blocks away. Knowing he would never get to sleep without it, they took a stroll over to drop it off. They found the back door unlocked and blood all over. His grandmother went next door and called the police. I lived a block and a half over and was out jogging when she came screaming out of the neighbor's house. That's how I got tagged on the case."  
  
Sitting back, Dan organized his thoughts for a moment and let everything he'd said so far sink in. Then he continued.  
  
"When I walked in… there's no possible way to describe it. I'd never seen so much blood. I didn't know that much blood could come from just three people. Greg's grandfather was knelt over the boy, pressing both hands to the two worst wounds he could find. I grabbed hand towels from the kitchen and tossed them to him. I checked out Greg's parents, but his father was dead. His mother was unconscious, and even as her pulse faded into oblivion, she held her hands over her unborn child to protect her. Greg's mother died as the paramedics arrived. We couldn't save the mother." Dan looked up with pure steel in his eyes. "But by God, we could save the child."  
  
"They were transported to the hospital. As Greg said, Grace was born. A beautiful, healthy baby girl."  
  
By this time, Greg's breathing was back to normal. The glassiness was gone from his eyes, and the taste of shock had receded. He took over where Dan left off.  
  
"Grace and I share our birthday. Soon she'll be 20 and a junior at MIT, majoring in molecular biology. She wants to be a CSI." At this, Greg grinned. "She still hasn't figured out how to get over my dead body, though."  
  
At Greg's attempt at humor, Grissom released a breath. When Greg had first come to Vegas, he'd sat down with Grissom. For days after the telling, Greg had turned morose and depressed. Grissom had recommended seeing the LVPD psychologist, or find some other release. Obviously, Greg had learned to deal with it.  
  
Grissom looked at Greg and received a nod. "I've known about what happened since before Greg came here."  
  
He looked at each of his CSIs. "I've known Greg and Dan since the incident, because I was called in to assist on the case. At the time, I was a coroner on loan to the bay area. I performed the autopsies on Greg's parents. Greg and I met when he was just a boy. Imagine my shock when I walked into interview him, without bothering to first read his resume and get a name. There he sat, a grown memory. Imagine his shock when I walked in and there I stood, the man who'd autopsied his parents. " Deciding to lighten the tense atmosphere, Grissom added, "Imagine all of our shock when he brought Marilyn Manson with him."  
  
Chuckles followed that statement as everyone became a little more loose and at ease.  
  
'It's time,' Dan thought. 'He's had enough time.'  
  
"There's one thing you haven't asked, Greg," Dan said, turning to look the young man in the eyes. "You haven't asked me who he is." 


	7. Who?

Utterly exhausted, with his emotions still riding close, just below the surface, Greg sighed.  
  
"I guess part of me is still afraid," he whispered.  
  
Greg stood and began pacing the room. In the back of his mind, he knew he must've truly rocked his friends to the core, because not one of them was clamoring for more information. He smiled to himself, then turned back to face them, turning serious.  
  
"It's time I face it all. I want the name. I want to know how you caught him. I want to know why he did it. But most of all, I want to meet him face-to-face." Greg stated, his expression turning to stone, daring Dan to argue with him.  
  
Instead of a fight, Dan simply said, "Done."  
  
As Greg relaxed and leaned back against a wall, Dan started spouting the facts.  
  
"His name is Carl Ridgemont. He is now 56 years old, living in Kentucky. He has two teenage sons. Both are good kids by all accounts. He had a young daughter who died six months ago. And I didn't catch him. He turned himself into his PD in Kentucky. As for why, you need to ask him that yourself, if for no other reason than for peace."  
  
Dan stood and walked over to Greg. Laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder, he gently squeezed. When Greg looked up, he continued, "He'll be here tomorrow."  
  
Before the shock could begin to settle into Greg's eyes again, Dan pulled him into a quick hug and whispered, "I'll be with you through the rest, Greg. Look around you. We'll all be with you."  
  
Greg let the words sink deep, the pushed off the darkness before it could settle again.  
  
Standing on somewhat shaky legs, he knew he'd never fall. In the expressions of his friends, he saw solidity. But he knew they had waited long enough. It was time to answer some questions. 


	8. Interrogation Time

Greg turned a chair around and straddled it, looking at his co-workers.  
  
"Okay, guys, I know you've got to be about bursting with questions. So go ahead and ask. I'll answer what I can."  
  
The CSIs looked at one another, then Nick finally spoke up with the question burning on all of their minds.  
  
"Why didn't you ever tell us?"  
  
Greg pondered the question and thought to answer with the quick and easy quip of 'you never asked', but changed his mind. For nearly twenty years he had lived with this. It was time to face his demons… all of them. He would start today. Now.  
  
"That's not an easy question to answer," he said thoughfully. "In part, because I didn't want the questions. But that ties into not wanting to fully face it."  
  
He sighed deep and continued.  
  
"I've tried to deal with it. Grissom can tell you about the depression I fall into when I have to think about it, let alone talk about it. He's seen me pull into myself, then battle to get back to normal. And for his patience, he has my gratitude. Finally, a couple years ago, I started seeing a shrink. But I just wasn't ready yet to let loose the thing that hurts me most."  
  
Looking into each CSIs face, he pulled himself up straight and stated as much for himself as for them.  
  
"I'm ready now."  
  
He nodded to the room at large and said, "Next question."  
  
Catherine next asked, "Just how badly were you hurt?"  
  
"I was stabbed once in the shoulder, once in the chest, two times on my right thigh, and once in the stomach. The shoulder and thigh healed with no problem. The stomach wound actually managed to miss my major organs, but one of stabs in the chest nicked my left lung. I was in the hospital for six weeks, while the reparations to my lung healed. The worst has been the psychological damage. I had nightmares every night for three years. They slowly faded, but it made it impossible to do normal everyday things like camp out with friends when I was a pre-teen. I freaked them out one night when I woke everyone up screaming and they couldn't get me to wake up."  
  
Warrick asked the next question, "Is that why you wear a tank top when we go to the pool? I always thought it was some weird fashion statement."  
  
Greg grinned and said, "My fashion statements are never weird," as he pulled his hair up and out to spike it a bit more. Then sobering, but keeping a sadder grin, he said, "Yeah. That is why I wear a tank-top. The stab wounds on the thigh and shoulder didn't leave much of a scar, but I have a huge scar running down my chest and belly because of the surgery."  
  
Sara, who had been sitting back and listening finally spoke with a quiet question.  
  
"How can you do this job, Greg? How can you stand to see the damage done to the innocent victims?"  
  
Greg knew this answer. Because it was a question he'd asked himself more than one.  
  
"Because I don't want to be a victim, Sara." Straightening his shoulders, he looked into her piercing eyes. "I bleed for the victims we see come through the doors, whether they're on their feet or coming in under a sheet. But I don't want to be a victim, and because I can help them in some small way find justice."  
  
At this, Grissom's quiet statement filled the air.  
  
"What you do is not small," Grissom pronounced. "If it weren't for you and your drive to do the job right, we would never be able to close the cases and let the innocents move on. Don't ever think what you do is small, whether it's out in the field or in the lab."  
  
Everyone sat silent as Grissom's remark filled the room.  
  
Suddenly, Greg grinned, then began laughing. Pretty soon his shoulders shook and he doubled over. No one moved, for fear that Greg had finally snapped from the shock of the day, until he looked up with tears of laughter spilling down his face and laughed out, "My God, I think he gave me a compliment!"  
  
Pretty soon, Nick's mouth began to twitch, followed by Warrick, then Catherine, and Sara. Laughter began to fill the room. Dan grinned and looked at Greg and his friends. Grissom just rolled his eyes. 


	9. Facing The Past And Finding Peace

Greg woke a few hours early the next day. With a little cajoling, Greg had talked Dan into staying with him. Knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep, Greg had sent Dan off to his apartment, stating he'd be home in a few hours. Of course, he hadn't thought about the state of his apartment when he'd convinced Dan to bunk at his place. The call he received shortly after Dan left the station brought back the small reality that Greg was a bit of a slob.  
  
'I should be honest with myself,' Greg thought as he rinsed soap off in the shower, 'I'm a complete slob.'  
  
He grinned thinking about coming home this morning and finding Dan sleeping between a stack of old Playboy magazines and a stack of empty pizza cartons. Unfortunately, they happened to be at each end of the couch.  
  
Greg finished his shower, dressed, and went into the living room. Looking around in shock, he realized he could see his carpet. Eyebrows wide in wonder, he turned when he heard Dan rustle into the room, carrying a filled trash bag, obviously heading out to the trash bins.  
  
"Wow," was all that came to Greg's mind.  
  
Shaking his head and grinning, Dan expounded, "You know, I'd nearly forgotten what your room always looked like at home. I don't know how many times I heard your grandfather say if you ever moved he was just burning your room out." Laughing, he opened the door and headed outside.  
  
When he came back in, Greg walked over, gave him a hug, and said, "Thanks" sweeping his arms to indicate the room. Then turning serious, he said, "Truly… thank you. You've been a great friend to me over the years. And in some ways, you've been like a father to me."  
  
Choking back the lump in his throat, Dan pulled back slightly from the hug and put his hand on Greg's neck in a move of comfort. "You've been like a son to me, too. I think your parents would be proud of you. And I'm here with you no matter what. You've got a lot of people who will be there today to help you try to close this chapter of the book."  
  
Pulling back, the two men regarded each other, emotion rising to the surface. Then Dan clasped Greg's shoulder. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Yeah," Greg said, pulling out his keys. "Let's go. I need to get this over with."  
  
Greg and Dan headed out the door. The man who'd killed his parents was in isolation at the station, waiting an interrogation from his victim. He'd arrived an hour before and would head out to California within a few hours. Greg would face him and finally get the chance to look into the dead eyes he saw in his worst nightmares. 


	10. Ending It

Greg nearly stopped on his way to the door of the interrogation room. He was truly tempted to step between Nick and Warrick and look in before he walked into the room. But he didn't. The first time he saw this man, he wanted no barrier. He didn't want the protection the glass offered. He wanted to face it head-on.  
  
He stopped before the door and closed his eyes. His fear rose to the surface, and the best he could do was push it down a bit. Greg knew his friends stood just outside the room and watched. He knew they watched for him. This knowledge gave him the bolster he needed to push any trace of fear from his eyes and step in.  
  
Slowly walking to the table where the prisoner sat chained to the chair, his head low, Greg studied the man before him. The graying hair took him by surprise. With a memory, time stands still. This man had aged. In his current position, he looked harmless. He looked like nothing more than a defeated shell. But Greg had to see. He had to know.  
  
"Look at me!" he demanded.  
  
Slowly, the prisoner looked up. And Greg looked into the eyes of a killer. Only they weren't glazed and black. They were a warm green. As he studied the man, Greg noted the changes. His mind suddenly flashed on the face of his past, and he could see the same face in the man in front of him.  
  
"You're Carl Ridgemont. You killed my family. You tried to kill me," Greg recited, without emotion.  
  
Carl's eyes flickered with what Greg might have thought was sadness and regret.  
  
Deciding not to sit, Greg leaned back against the one-way mirror and peered at Carl.  
  
"I have a few things to say to you. But first I want to know why," Greg growled. Slowly but surely, the fear Greg had initially felt was turning over into anger.  
  
"I was a heroine junky. I broke into your house to steal something. Anything. I just needed to get a fix. But you came home. I don't remember much of what happened. But I remember waking up the next day covered in blood. I was in an alleyway in downtown San Francisco and I didn't remember how I got there. I knew I'd done something bad, and I knew where it happened, but I honestly don't remember attacking you."  
  
Greg watched Carl sit back, his shoulders slumped.  
  
"Why turn yourself in now?" Greg asked.  
  
"My daughter died this last year," Carl softly stated, "and for the first time I truly understood the pain I had caused. I turned myself in for my children. And for you."  
  
Slowly, Greg circled the room, pacing in the room and in his mind. He needed to finish this, but he didn't know how. He thought he'd know what to do when he finally saw the killer, but he paced the room at a loss how to proceed. Then something his psychiatrist said came back to him.  
  
Go back to where the emotion began. Tell him what it's done to your life.  
  
"You destroyed my world," Greg said quietly, almost in a whisper. Then, feeling a strength he didn't he had, he walked over, sat across from Carl and continued.  
  
"My parents were my world. And I want you to know what you killed. So I'll tell you about them. My father used to put on soft music every night. Then he'd dance with my mom. I loved to just watch them hold each other and move to the sounds. Not because they were graceful, but because you could see a deep and abiding love for each other in those moments."  
  
Greg paused to collect his thoughts and continued again.  
  
"When I had the measles, my dad stayed home from work for two days so that he and mom could be with me when I was so sick. Dad spent those two days coloring with me and rocking me to sleep, while mom would wipe my forehead off with a damp cloth to cool me down. Then she and dad would sing to me."  
  
"Mom loved to cook, and once a week she would send me to my grandparents' house, while she cooked a special meal for my dad. I know now that it was their chance for romance. And once a month she would cook a special meal for me, while dad and I spent 'guy time' together."  
  
"We were happy. There was no doubt that the happiness would continue. But you took that from us."  
  
Carl looked away when Greg made the statement, "And you nearly took my sister."  
  
"But Grace is alive, healthy, and happy. And I've looked into your eyes."  
  
Greg stood and walked towards the door. The weight he'd felt since he was a small child fell away like a cloak. He looked back at Carl and stared intently.  
  
It finally came to him. The one elusive thing he never thought he'd have. He knew how to end it.  
  
"I've been told the only way to get rid of the pain is to forgive. I never thought I'd say this, but I forgive you. Not for you, not for your children, although I feel for them. I forgive you for me."  
  
With a lighter step, Greg opened the door and stepped through.  
  
~~  
  
Greg stood outside the security checkpoint and waited while Dan bent down and stuffed his day planner into his carry-on.  
  
"Okay, you're coming to San Francisco next month, right?" Dan asked. "Let's plan on going fishing. Bart still has that old boat of his, so if you don't mind bailing every hour on the hour, we shouldn't sink."  
  
"Yeah, I'll be there," Greg said, shifting from one foot to the other.  
  
'The boy still hasn't learned to hold still,' Dan thought to himself, then smiled. 'Wouldn't be Greg if he did.'  
  
He stood up straight and put his hands up on Greg's shoulders, and his expression sobered.  
  
"I know I've told you how proud your parents would be of you. But I want you to know how proud I am of you. It's been a pleasure to watch you grow into a man."  
  
Greg pulled Dan into a tight hug. Slowly drawing away from one another, they said goodbye, Dan heading off to the security check.  
  
Greg looked at his watch. If he hurried, he'd make it to work on time. With a spring in his step, Greg headed into the office. For the first time, he felt great about his future, and looked forward to the challenges.  
  
~The End~ 


End file.
